Running in the Rain
by Winter Solstice1
Summary: COMPLETE Hermione is back at Hogwarts as a Professor, and Severus doesn't like it one bit. Will something happen to change his mind?
1. Chapter 1

Rain. It fell incessantly from a dark sky, dampening the thick stone of the castle walls, filling the lake and soaking the grounds. It had been raining for days - always from a grey sky, always with the same steady downpour. Quidditch practises and matches had been cancelled and postponed, the students were restless. The rain changed the landscape of the school and its grounds, turning it the castle into a forbidding fortress and the grounds into a soggy mess. If it rained any more, Severus Snape thought darkly, the lake would empty itself into the Dark Forest and Merlin only knew the trouble *that* would cause. He sighed, dark eyes staring out across said lake impassively. Truth be told, Severus secretly enjoyed the bad weather. More often than not he found that it suited his mood.  
  
One of the main reasons for that mood chose that moment to make an appearance, and Severus blinked. The rain, combined with the half-light that passed for dusk, made it difficult to properly see the figure that was running swiftly along the edge of the lake, but Severus knew instantly who it was. Only Hermione Granger was mad enough to run in abysmal weather like this.  
  
Eyes narrowing, he watched as her trim figure successfully navigated the borders of the lake and turned in sharply towards the castle outbuildings. She ran with an uninhibited grace, seemingly oblivious to the rain and cold. Severus envied her apparent freedom whilst at the same time finding himself contemptuous of it. She was closer to him now, close enough so that he could clearly see that she was only wearing tiny blue running shorts and a matching vest. He was briefly alarmed, assuming that she must be freezing cold, but then he looked at her face and saw that she was *glowing*. She must have spotted him standing in the entranceway to the West tower courtyard because she ran straight over to him, pulling up a few metres in front of him and leaning over to rest her hands on her knees. Her unruly hair, unusually confined in a long plait, swung over her shoulder and prevented Severus from seeing her face. He watched in silence as she panted for a few minutes before straightening up again. Her cinnamon eyes were steady as they met his.  
  
"Good evening, Professor," she panted slightly, lifting her eyebrows.  
  
"Good evening Professor Granger," Severus nodded to her, only placing the tiniest of emphases on the 'professor' and enjoying the look of annoyance that flickered across her features. He was not yet ready to welcome Hogwarts newest youngest professor into the fold completely, and decided to needle her further. "This is hardly the weather for *running*, Professor," he intoned silkily. Hermione Granger's eyes widened.  
  
"What I choose to do with my free time is none of your concern, Severus," she replied archly. Her use of his first name was not lost on him. She had her own methods of annoying him, and this was the one she employed most often.  
  
"Of course not," he said smoothly. "But I would hate for your . . . safety to become a concern of mine." He offered her a smirk, knowing it was certain to infuriate her further. These little exchanges took place between them quite seldom as they often chose to avoid each other, but when they did take place Severus took perverse pleasure in enjoying them immensely. What Miss Granger lacked in age she more than made up for in intelligence and wit, and he was often surprised when she gained the upper hand in their little sparring matches.  
  
"I think we both know that my safety is not an issue whilst I run in the school grounds," she titled her head to one side and smiled at him warmly. Too warmly. He knew she didn't mean it. "But of course if it's a *personal* concern of yours then maybe you'd like to run with me Professor?"  
  
She goaded him quite shamelessly, and he watched her from beneath a scowl as she gave a little laugh, no doubt imagining what he might look like in an outfit similar to hers. He was surprised to see that when she laughed her face became quite animated and almost . . . beautiful. He pushed that thought off to one side before it could worry him.  
  
"Not necessary, Hermione," he adopted a thoughtful expression and took several seconds to look over her slim figure encased in small amounts of stretchy blue material. She had always been thin, he knew, but her running had added some muscle to her delicate frame, filling her out most attractively. Her legs were long and tanned from running all-year round, and today they were covered in a fine coating of rain which gave them an almost silky appearance. "I really don't have the legs for it."  
  
What should have been an openly humours comment was made suggestively awkward by the way Severus chose to slowly look her up and down. He was not expecting the sudden pang of awareness that accompanied it. She was slightly bedraggled and mud-splattered, but it did little to detract from her lithe appeal. She was looking at him steadily, not unsettled as he wished her to be.  
  
"Maybe not," she pursed her lips a little as if considering the point. "No."  
  
He watched as she gathered herself a little, placing her hands on her hips and suddenly becoming aware of the rain falling steadily around her.  
  
"You're soaking." It was an obvious thing to say, but it was a small criticism and therefore worthwhile saying.  
  
"I know." Her smile was impish. "I should go and shower."  
  
The image of her naked and under a hot shower jumped unbidden into his mind. He tried to dismiss it and failed spectacularly. His eyes glazed a little.  
  
"Quite," he nodded and stepped to one side so that she might gain entrance to the school. She looked at him strangely.  
  
"Is something wrong, Severus?" She took several steps towards him, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. Whatever had gone before, her concern was at least genuine. He so wanted to shake her hand off his arm, but it was spreading a distracting warmth through his upper body. He looked into her warm brown eyes, wondering why now of all times she was making him feel this way.  
  
"Severus?" She was frowning now, and shook a hand briskly in front of his face. He caught it effortlessly and then held it in his own. Her hand was small, he observed, and it fitted easily into his.  
  
"I . . . sorry . . ." He took another long look at her and then shook his head, finally managing to dislodge his thoughts of her. He dropped her hand quickly, not familiar with the way it left him feeling. He was unbalanced and she knew it. It gave her an advantage he considered dangerous. "I'm fine, Professor." Slowly, painfully, he put his barriers back up, moving away from her at the same time. She frowned and he wondered if she would question him then, but she appeared to think better of it.  
  
"Okay." She enunciated the word carefully, looking sideways at him. Something had changed. They were not fighting, he realised, not even bickering.  
  
"Good." The conversation had dwindled into an uncomfortable series of monosyllables. He was embarrassed, she was embarrassed. It was time to leave, he decided, and walk away before it became excruciating. "Well . . ." he gave a vague gesture in the direction of the castle and looked up to see her already striding away, the plait of her hair flicking from side to side as she walked.  
  
"Good evening, Professor," she called back to him quietly.  
  
"Good evening . . . Hermione," he murmured.  
  
She walked on a few more steps, leaving him reasonably confident that she hadn't heard him, but suddenly looked back. She was smiling, her eyes were dancing. She lifted a hand, grinned and then dropped it in order to break into a jog.  
  
Within a few seconds she had slipped through one of the castle doors and disappeared from sight. Severus stared after her thoughtfully for a minute, then sighed and followed her path back into the castle.  
  
Behind him, the rain had stopped falling. He did not notice. His thoughts were elsewhere. His mood had changed.  
  
***  
  
A/N: Thanks for reading, hopefully I'll be able to post more soon. Your ideas on how to proceed with this would be much appreciated! I don't have a plot bunny yet, and I'd like this one to be a little longer than my other stuff.  
  
See that little button down there? The one that says 'review'? Please do so. It'll make my day. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, so I've had to invent a paper thin plot device to keep everything ticking over. It's a little bit lame, but the best I could do considering I had to fill out the plot somehow! It's a bit convenient, I know, but it's also the most straightforward way of introducing some 'issues'! I will be working on it a bit in further chapters, it will tie in with everything, honest! There will be more running, more rain . . . and possibly some mud too! Thanks SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed chapter one:  
  
C Jazz, ThePeppermintStripes, addisonrae, Snapecake, star-nite, Merry the Psychotic Coconut, SiriusBlackIsMyHero, AnnabelleElizabeth, Sacha's Girl, Phinix.  
  
Kelly - Yes, you're right. Silly me. We learn that in GOF don't we? It will be removed.  
  
JennyRad - Thanks so much for your pointers, I'm finding my way a little better now. As for where I work, no it isn't Atwools, although I do live just down the road from there! Small world!  
  
DistinctVagueness - I love you, honey! Honestly, you're such a sweetheart. This one's for you for all of your lovely words of praise and encouragement.  
  
***  
  
Hermione jogged swiftly back to her rooms, high in the West tower, whilst all the while contemplating her strange meeting with Severus Snape in the school grounds. True, they had had several unpleasant run-ins during her time back at Hogwarts, but what had taken place between them that evening had been more than strange. Hermione struggled to recall when she had last seen the enigmatic potions professor looking so distracted, and her sharp mind told her that the answer to her question was 'never'. Something had affected him out there; there had been something about the way he looked at her . . .  
  
Hermione did not wish to dwell on such thoughts any further. Severus Snape's problems were not her concern, and she had no wish to get involved. He was a thankless bastard anyway, she reasoned, remembering his odd reaction to her. Giving a mental, if not literal, shrug she unlocked the various wards on the door to her rooms and stepped swiftly inside. The door closed softly behind her as she walked into her sitting room and kicked off her muddy trainers, wincing when her wet feet came into contact with a bit of stone floor not covered by a brightly coloured run. Her lithe body sagged with fatigue and she hurried through a quick warm-down, stretching tired muscles to ensure she didn't inadvertently pull them.  
  
Hermione had been running every day since going to Wizarding University some seven years ago. Her experiences at Hogwarts with a broomstick had led her to believe that she was perhaps not a natural athlete, but running was different. Running was something she did alone, something she found that she could do unexpectedly well. Her trainered feet could cover miles and make them seem like mere steps, her legs seemed more than happy to carry her as far as she wanted to go. Hermione felt liberated when she ran, free from the constraints of her largely academic life. She felt as if she could be anyone and do anything. At eighteen she had been a novice, running in jogging bottoms and baggy t-shirts, hiding her slender white body beneath reassuring layers of clothing. Now, at twenty five, she preferred to run in as little as possible, enjoying the feel of the wind, sun or rain against her skin. Her body was well-toned; her legs finely muscled but still slim and tanned. She had never been ashamed of her figure, but the difference was now she was proud of it. She was still far too shy to openly flaunt herself in front of anyone, but she knew she had nothing to hide. Having a conversation with Snape whilst dressed in tiny lycra shorts and vest had not bothered her at all, she had been perfectly comfortable, but Severus . . . Severus, it seemed had not been.  
  
Hermione chuckled as her train of thought unwittingly led her into thinking of Severus in lycra again. Disturbing thought as it was, she found herself amused at the thought of the potions professor in anything other than his usual black, especially something small and stretchy. Black and small and stretchy? Perhaps.  
  
Rising from a sitting position on the floor, she quickly stripped off her small outfit and socks whilst making her way to the bathroom to shower. Hopping under the hot stream of water she sighed as it made her cold skin tingle. She absently released her long wavy hair from its plait and it rested heavily on her shoulders while she took her time in shampooing it. Gone were the frizzy curls of her schooldays, replaced by sleek sandy coloured waves that fell nearly to her waist. Magic had helped of course, and from the day she had discovered that sleekening charm she had never looked back.  
  
*  
  
The grey light outside had grudgingly given way to the dark skies of night when Hermione decided she was hungry. It was late, past eleven and hours since dinner and her stomach was growling so insistently she knew that it would not wait until breakfast. She had not ventured into the school kitchens since seventh year, but found it no surprise that they had hardly changed. The house elves were more than happy to provide her with more sandwiches than she could possibly eat and a pot of tea that looked to hold about eight cups worth at least. She was carrying her supper from the kitchens back to her rooms when she spied a familiar figure stalking down the corridor towards her. Snape's robes billowed impressively with his long strides, and Hermione wondered fleetingly how he managed it before he stopped right in front of her, his face a disapproving sneer.  
  
"Where did you get those?" He demanded. She curbed a smile, and instead looked carefully around her, as if looking for the source of her sandwiches.  
  
"The kitchens?" Her answer, when it came, was guaranteed to cause maximum annoyance. The game, it seemed, was on again.  
  
"Why?" Severus frowned. Hermione had no idea why he was so interested, but decided to humour him.  
  
"Because I was hungry . . . you know, after my run. Is there something wrong with that, Professor?" She shifted from foot to foot, impatient for the conversation to be over.  
  
"Late night visits to the kitchens hardly set a good example to the students, do they?" He hissed. Hermione resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.  
  
"Can you see any students, Severus?" She raised her voice a little. He was obviously doing a late night patrol, and looking for trouble when there patently wasn't any.  
  
"That is not the point!" His voice was a half-shout, causing her eyebrows to rise along with her temper. Shaking her head and refusing to speak another word to him she hoisted the small tray she was carrying a little further up on her hip and rudely brushed past him at a quick pace. He made a curious noise in his throat, which she ignored, and then he turned on his heel to follow her in silence.  
  
When she reached the door to her rooms she turned to him expectantly. His face was like thunder, and she almost laughed. Almost. Instead, she did something that would undoubtedly confuse him, offering him something he would of course refuse.  
  
"Would you like to join me for supper, Severus?"  
  
He looked at her, apparently mute, then considered her question and to her great surprise, nodded quickly. Hermione gave a little shrug, almost to herself, and he followed her into her sitting room, waiting as she pulled two chairs and a small table closer to the fire. Putting the tray down and sitting in one chair, she waved her hand so that he might sit in the other. He did so, his dark eyes not leaving her face.  
  
"What?" She offered him a sandwich, and he took one almost as if he were worried it might poison him. "I didn't steal them, you know," biting into a ham and cheese she chewed, swallowed. "The house elves gave them to me."  
  
He seemed to calm down a little then, eating in silence for a few minutes. Hermione did the same, glancing at him from beneath her eyelashes so that he didn't catch her. His face, in the soft combined glow of candlelight and firelight, seemed contented. She expanded her glance to cover the rest of him. He was clad entirely in black, as always, apart from a tiny glimpse of while at his throat and cuffs, but he seemed a little healthier these days, and not nearly so gaunt as he had been under the shadow of Voldemort. His skin, although still very pale and almost translucent, had lost its sickly yellow tinge and his cheekbones were not so prominent. He was *interesting* looking now, Hermione decided, which was a big change from how he had been. She blinked, suddenly aware of how she was thinking, and coloured. It had been a long time since she had been able to think of a man in such terms . . .  
  
"Tea, Professor Granger?" She looked up to see Severus holding the teapot above two cups he must have accio'd from one of her cupboards. He was looking at her curiously again, black eyes guarded.  
  
"Please." He poured the tea and added milk without being asked to do so, and passed her one of the cups. As she moved to take it from him, her fingers clumsily brushed his and the subsequent crackle of electricity she felt as she did so caused the cup to slip through her fingers and smash loudly on the floor. For a moment they both stared at it, and then he had his wand out again.  
  
"Reparo." He pointed it at the cup and within a few seconds it was whole again. He was repeating the tea making process without another word when Hermione abruptly came to her senses.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking down at the small puddle of tea on the floor.  
  
"Never mind." He passed her the cup again and she took it from him, careful not to touch him.  
  
"You know, it's strange. I used Reparo to fix Harry's glasses so many times, I never seem to use it at all now . . ." Her eyes widened as she realised what she had said. It had been quite literally years since she had spoken of Harry, and her silence had been imposed for a reason. Why had a simple repairing charm made her refer to him like that? There was a sudden and frightening ball of fire in her chest as she struggled to breathe properly. The room and its' contents seemed to spin around her.  
  
"Hermione . . ." There was a warning in Severus' voice.  
  
"It's okay, I'm fine," she gabbled out. "I don't know where that came from."  
  
"You've never spoken of him, have you? Not since . . ." The question hung in the air between them, almost tangible. Hermione looked up, her eyes meeting his.  
  
"I can't." She whispered. "It's too hard, even now. I shut it away because that's the only way I can cope with it. It has to stay that way."  
  
"He has been dead nearly five years," Severus spoke softly. Hermione took a sip of her tea, and looked into the fire.  
  
"What difference does that make?" She asked, frowning.  
  
"Nothing will bring him back." Even as he spoke the words, he knew that they would hurt her. He had been there the same as she had, had witnessed Potter's heroic sacrifice. He had died so that the Dark Lord might die also. There had been no other way. Afterwards, Hermione had been inconsolable for a long time, grieving beyond everyone else for reasons of her own. Severus had had an inkling of why that might have been so, but had dismissed it, and had forgotten with the passing of time. Sitting with the young woman now, he remembered.  
  
"I know." Her voice wobbled ominously, she closed her eyes and drank her tea. "I don't need you or anybody else to tell me that." She was aggressive in an attempt to end the conversation before the inevitable tears fell.  
  
"I think that you do." He watched her face in profile, seeing a riot of emotions crossing it. She settled on cold fury.  
  
"Shut up." Her voice was a flat monotone. "This conversation ends now."  
  
Her blazing eyes met his so that he might see as well as feel her fury. Severus waited for a heartbeat, then two, and then he said what he knew he must before his courage gave out completely.  
  
"Did you love him?" He asked her. Her eyes widened, and the teacup tumbled to the floor from her nerveless fingers, again smashing into pieces on the floor.  
  
A long silence followed. He did not move to repair it this time, wondering instead what else was broken.  
  
Hermione bowed her head, hoping against hope that he would not make her confront this, not now. All of her anger seeped away, leaving only a crushing sadness. She thought that she had hidden it so well, kept it so safe from everyone that knew her. She had been wrong. Severus Snape was the last person she would have considered so intuitive, but he knew. And he was right. Tears filled her eyes, she looked up at him. His expression was strange, half pained and half kind.  
  
"I loved him." Her voice was broken, the tears began to fall. "And he never knew." 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: All of the slush I have stored in Media Player has been my muse today (Special thanks to Whitney and Genesis), so here is a third chapter full of melancholy angsty slushy goodness. I have the next two chapters virtually planned out, they won't be long . . .  
  
Small errors in the first two chapters have been corrected.  
  
Thanks to everyone who reviews, I love you guys, you make me want to write more (and that must be a good thing, right? Right?)  
  
***  
  
Hermione felt as if a great dam within her had burst, she was powerless to stop it. Her tears came, and then the sobbing began as she desperately tried to catch her breath. She could not cope with the myriad of emotions that were assaulting her; she could not believe that this had been done to her.  
  
She was dimly aware of Snape's impassive presence next to her whilst she put her face into her hands and cried; she half expected him to leave but he did not. She could sense his unease but ignored it, and him. The deep silence was punctuated only by her hiccupping sobs.  
  
She had been crying a few minutes when he at last decided to offer her comfort. He murmured to himself for a few seconds, again cleaning up her broken cup, and when that was done he rose silently from his chair, dropping to his knees in front of her. With two gentle tugs he had pulled her hands away from her face, holding them in his own, looking sadly upon her crumpled and tearstained face.  
  
"Oh, Hermione," his voice was unexpectedly gentle and in one fluid movement he had gotten to his feet, pulling her up with him. She swayed on her feet, closing her eyes and leaning into him in sad defeat and he stiffened, unaccustomed to such close physical contact with anyone. She rested her head on his shoulder, turning her face into his neck and several hot tears slid from her cheeks, beneath the collar of his white dress shirt, and onto his skin. Severus sighed and hesitated before wrapping one arm around her slim waist and pulling her closer, sliding his free hand into the waves of her hair to cradle her head gently. Hermione made a small snuffling noise, and her sobbing resumed in earnest.  
  
Severus held her. Held her and waited. He was surprised to find himself in this situation, he should have been uncomfortable, and he should not find this as easy as he did. But the truth was, it *was* easy. She felt so natural in his arms, like she could belong there if she stayed long enough. He lowered his head to hers, feeling her hair tickle his nose. It touched him so strangely, he could not put words to the way it made him feel, and instead he stood still with the sobbing woman in his arms and waited her out.  
  
Patience was a virtue that Severus had learned the hard way, and he was fully prepared to put it to good use, but to his surprise her tears were remarkably short lived. He found himself wanting to hold her long past the point when her sobs subsided, but when she abruptly stiffened in his arms he knew he had to let her go. He dropped his arms to his sides, taking a small step back as he did so. She stood alone for a moment, shakily wiping her tears on the sleeves of her robes, and then slid neatly to the floor next to the fire, bringing her knees up to rest her chin on them whilst she stared into the flames. A few minutes passed before she stared up at him with resigned eyes and he silently joined her on the floor.  
  
"I miss him." Hermione whispered at length. "I miss him every day."  
  
"Did he . . ." Severus was hesitant. "Did he know, Hermione? Did you tell him?"  
  
Her laugh was hollow. She shook her head.  
  
"There was never a time. Harry never felt the same way about me."  
  
"I am sorry, Hermione." He found himself sincere in the face of her pain.  
  
"It hardly matters now, does it?" She was bitter, refusing his sympathy. He understood.  
  
"If it still pains you, it matters." He saw her eyes flash as something angered her.  
  
"I would prefer not to revisit the past." She said tightly.  
  
"Then you will never let it go."  
  
He looked at her steadily, without malice. She stared back at him angrily.  
  
"What do you know about it?"  
  
"Plenty." He crossed his arms across his chest defensively.  
  
"Such as?" She leaned towards to him, he caught the scent of her hair, and took a deep breath.  
  
"You're not the only one to lose something precious to them. I lived a lie for years, Hermione. Years. A decision that I made when I was eighteen effectively ruined *my* life. I've wallowed in self pity and bad humour for the rest of it. You don't need to be like me." His voice was brisk, his eyes hard. The truth could be such a sad thing, and the realisation that he had screwed up his life had come long before this. He had never managed to admit it to anybody else. Until now. It was perhaps the longest speech he had ever made to her, to anyone, on the subject. He was relived to find that it did not pain him as it once had.  
  
Hermione was staring at him, eyes wide. She had more in common with him than she could have imagined. She looked at his strong profile, able to feel sorrow for him for the first time. It was . . . odd, she realised.  
  
"You don't need to be like me." He repeated. "Whatever your mistakes, whatever your loss, you don't have to shut yourself away from the world."  
  
"But it's the only way that I can survive!" She protested heatedly.  
  
"Wrong." He shook his head emphatically; she saw some of the Professor of old. "Wrong. To live is to feel, Hermione. If you care for nothing then what is the point?"  
  
"I did care! But Harry . . . it was . . . I was . . ." She struggled for the words to explain.  
  
"Did you feel that you were not allowed to love him? That it was in some way forbidden?" He was touching a nerve, he could see it in her face.  
  
"He was not for me," she flushed suddenly. "Ginny . . . he loved Ginny." Severus saw the reasons for her pain, her conflict then. She had been in love with a man who had loved someone else. She had been overlooked, and for a close friend at that. Her feelings had been carefully stored away, never resolved and certainly never acknowledged like this.  
  
"We cannot choose whom we love." He told her. "It was not your fault."  
  
"After he died she grieved for him in a way that I never could," Hermione continued as if he hadn't spoken at all. "And I was almost . . . jealous of her. If I envied her when he was alive it was ten times worse after he died." She bit her lip. "How horrible is that? What kind of person does that make me? She was devastated and I couldn't comfort her because I was too busy missing something I never had!"  
  
"It was a long time ago," Severus spoke slowly and quietly. "And it does not make you a terrible person. It just makes you human. For whatever you perceive your crimes as, I think you've paid for them long enough. But it is all in the past. You cannot change any of it; no matter how much you might wish to."  
  
Hermione covered her mouth with her hands. A strange keening sob came from her throat, and fresh tears filled her eyes. She collapsed against him, he gathered her into his arms without hesitation this time.  
  
"You must be strong," He murmured into her hair. "You must face this and move on."  
  
"I know," her voice was muffled by clothing and tears. "I know."  
  
He looked down at her shaking form and wondered if they might come to a sort of understanding this night. He saw her struggle, saw how it mirrored his own in many respects, and he did not think less of her. On the contrary, he found that he now had a grudging admiration for her.  
  
Her tears were brief, and when she pulled away she even managed a watery smile. Her tired face seemed to light up fleetingly, it was at least a positive sign.  
  
"I'll be okay." She managed quietly.  
  
"Good." Severus reluctantly climbed to his feet, and stared down at her thoughtfully.  
  
"Honestly," she assured him without shifting her gaze from the floor. "What you've said is true. I trust your opinion, and . . . I'm glad you were the one I shared this with."  
  
She was paying him a compliment, Severus could not believe it. In all of the years they had known each other neither had chosen to bestow a single word of praise upon the other, until now. The very nature of this conversation and meeting had changed irrevocably the way they each saw the other.  
  
"Thank you," he said softly, and then stiffened, slipping easily back into his 'fearsome professor' persona. "Feel free to talk to me further, if you should require it."  
  
She looked up then, knowing that the barriers were once more in place, and nodded.  
  
"I will."  
  
They both knew that she would not, but it felt better saying it somehow, like he needed to hear the words as much as she wanted to speak them. His smile was slow and mocking as he walked to the door that would let him out into the corridor. Hermione got to her feet and followed him to it, opened it.  
  
"Good night, Hermione." He said. She hesitated, seemingly torn between saying something else and remaining silent. Choosing the latter, she nodded and watched as he left the room without a backward glance and made for the stairs. Closing the door, she leant against it and drew a shaky breath.  
  
It was going to be another long, wakeful night. 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I *really* enjoyed writing this chapter! It's mostly filler stuff so I can introduce the chapters after better, but it's really quite nice. Fluffy at the end, with a bit of a sad old cliché (sorry, but it just had to be done!), it's quite OOC. You have been warned.  
  
Again, thanks for all of your reviews; they really do mean a lot to me!  
  
***  
  
It seemed an endlessly long night. Hermione went to bed in the end, but only to lie flat on her back, staring up at the folds in the canopy above her head. Her room was very dark and very quiet, the combination should have soothed her to sleep, it was usually enough. Instead, she found herself patiently waiting out the darkness, occasionally turning her head to look out of the window at the midnight-velvet sky with its scattering of stars. When at last the night had given way to the first pink streaks of the dawn she gave up.  
  
Climbing back out of the barely disturbed bed, she padded to the bathroom to shower and dress, doing both completely on automatic pilot. Hermione was fully aware that her mind was elsewhere and she struggled to bring it back under her control. She knew deep down that some good had come out of the events of the previous evening; it had been more than therapeutic for her. Somehow, and out of nowhere, Severus Snape had managed to comfort her aching soul and show her the best way to proceed. She knew now what it was that she had to do.  
  
Sitting down at her desk, she thought for a moment before picking up her quill. By the time the new day was fully fledged she was in the Owlry, sending off two letters. The first, and easiest to write, had been to Ron Weasley. The second and much more difficult letter had been sent to his sister, Ginny. Now all Hermione could do was wait. She stood watching the owls as they flew from the tower and until they disappeared from sight. A small sigh escaped her lips, and her expression became wistful; she was not foolish enough to presume that five years worth of damage could be repaired easily, but this at least was a start. Something small yet significant fluttered within her heart then. It was hope.  
  
She made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast then, carefully storing away her feelings until she was at liberty to access them again. Hermione would be the first to admit that life went on, and while she had lessons to plan and teach there was no time for her to dwell on more personal matters. She was dedicated to teaching at Hogwarts, and determined that nothing should affect that.  
  
She was toying with some toast and sipping coffee at the staff table by the time Severus chose to make his entrance. Dramatic as always, he strode the length of the hall, robes billowing behind him. He was barely acknowledged by the students, they were much too afraid of him, and he was not known on the staff for being a morning person, but as he approached the table his dark eyes met Hermione's enquiringly. He was quick to take in her pale skin, and dark shadows but said nothing, instead inclining his head slightly before continuing on. Hermione returned his nod with a grateful one of her own, and looked away. Her opinion of him had changed somewhat during the past twelve hours but that did not yet mean they were ready to exchange morning pleasantries, it appeared. Her smile was sudden and rueful, and Severus, sitting some way down the table, did not miss it.  
  
The day proceeded in normal fashion for Hermione, and she greatly enjoyed teaching 'Wingardium Leviosa' to her class of combined Gryffindor and Hufflepuff first years in the last lesson of the afternoon. They were a clever bunch, and most had managed to pick up the charm before the end of the lesson, she sat and watched as they confidently flicked their feathers around her classroom. The carefree memories of her own first year left her nostalgic, but she felt no sorrow in remembering. The class had been dismissed and she was walking around the classroom collecting up her feathers lost in her own little world when the gentle knock on the door startled her from her reverie. She looked up as Severus slipped into the room and closed the door behind him firmly, before turning to look at her wordlessly. Hermione wondered what his unexpected visit was for, and the silence deepened as she finished collecting the feathers and put them back into their box.  
  
"You could have used magic to do that, you know." He spoke quietly as she perched herself on the edge of the desk and looked at him. She shrugged, and tried to hide a smile.  
  
"It does not always come naturally for me to do so," she said, truthfully. "Does this visit have a purpose, Professor? I do have papers to mark this afternoon."  
  
If he was taken aback by her abruptness, he did not show it.  
  
"It does, actually," his voice was brisk. "I simply wanted to enquire . . . if you were all right?" He dropped the act mid sentence and ran a hand through his hair, forgetting that it was caught back in a small ponytail, in apparent exasperation. The result was not flattering, and Hermione failed to stifle her laughter at the look on his face as he re-tied it. He regarded her stonily.  
  
"I am quite all right, Professor," she tilted her head to one side and all of her hair fell over one shoulder. The mid afternoon sunlight pouring in through the classroom windows highlighted the golds and reds interwoven with the brown. "Are you?"  
  
"Me? I . . . yes, Professor. Why do you ask?" He seemed uncharacteristically flustered, and moved a few paces closer to her.  
  
"Because *you* asked *me*." Hermione smiled. His presence in her room had in the past been quite unsettling for her, but today things seemed different. He somehow made her feel calmer, safer, she realised. It was a pleasant thought; it made her feel happier than she had felt all day.  
  
"Oh." His dark eyes appraised her thoughtfully, regarding her unblinkingly until she was forced to look away in sudden discomfort. "May I ask you a favour, Professor Granger?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Will you walk with me? By the lake perhaps?" His request was unusual to say the least. Hermione felt that a small amount of light hearted teasing was in order.  
  
"Walking is hardly my style, Severus," she admonished him. To her surprise, he smiled. His face seemed to change completely, making him look much younger, unencumbered by the worries of the present. Hermione liked it, she decided, and wished that he would do it more often.  
  
"If it is all the same to you, I would rather not run."  
  
"Of course not," Hermione slid nimbly off her desk; they walked together to the door. "The lake, you said? May I fetch my cloak first?" It was late October, and although the autumn sun was bright it was not warm. Severus nodded.  
  
"I will wait for you by the main doors," he said and strode off towards the dungeons. Hermione warded her classroom until her return and headed in the opposite direction to her rooms. Picking up her heavy winter cloak she was about to leave again when an owl flew through one of her open windows, depositing a letter into her waiting hands.  
  
It was from Ginny. Short and to the point, as was Ginny's style. She would like to see Hermione; would it be possible for her to visit at Hogwarts? Was the following Saturday suitable? Hermione sighed, her good mood suddenly evaporating. There was no warmth in Ginny's letter, no hope for rekindling friendship as she had hoped, but all the same Hermione wrote a quick note accepting the terms, and telling Ginny that she was looking forward to seeing her. She did not hold out much hope that Ginny felt the same way.  
  
She was filled with trepidation she made her way to the castle's main entrance and immediately caught sight of Severus chastising some young Gryffindors for "talking too loudly in the corridors". A suitable number of points were taken and then he was standing alone in the hall. From her vantage point at the top of the main staircase Hermione suddenly thought that she could see a little of the man behind the mask. We all have our secrets, she thought. We all have our crosses to bear. What are his? Her face was solemn as she descended the staircase; they did not speak a word as he scooped her cloak out of her arms and held it up so she could put it on. They were silent as they left the castle and walked at a steady pace towards the lake side by side. She pondered for a moment the picture that they made, she in her Gryffindor red cloak, and he in Slytherin green, and then dismissed the thought upon realising that there were no students or staff around to see.  
  
They reached the near shore of the lake and Severus came to a sudden halt. Hermione stopped next to him, looking up at him curiously. He cleared his throat, apparently nervous.  
  
"Hermione, I was wondering if you might . . . that is, if you would . . ." he hesitated, and she began to worry that he was going to request something impossibly difficult of her. She reached out and put a reassuring hand on his arm. He looked down at it stupidly.  
  
"Severus. Whatever it is, don't be afraid to ask."  
  
His dark eyes, and in bright sunlight Hermione could see that they were not in fact black as she had always supposed, but instead a beautiful and rare dark violet, stared into hers and she did not look away this time. He drifted closer, until they were almost touching and she could feel his warm breath on her face. Her heart gave a sudden little lurch at his close proximity, she was aware of a sudden difficulty breathing. His pupils dilated as he looked at her, she was reasonably sure that hers were doing the same. He leaned into her, and Hermione gave no ground as the warmth of his lean body settled against hers. His behaviour should have seemed odd, she should not have welcomed his embrace as willingly as she did, but his arms went about her and she rested her head against the dark green velvet which covered his chest with a sigh. He made her feel so safe, he was so warm . . . she snuggled a little closer, wrapping her arms about him as he lowered his face into her hair. He murmured something incomprehensible, she ignored it, and he held her closer.  
  
They stayed absolutely still for long minutes, and Hermione let herself be lulled by his comforting presence, closing her tired eyes and drifting in a place where she did not have to feel anything except the gentleness of the man who held her. He shifted against her then; she felt strong hands on her shoulders moving her slightly so that she could look up at him. The expression on his face was a curious mixture of pain and desire. Whatever it was he had intended to ask of her, it certainly wasn't this.  
  
"I would really like . . . I really want to . . ." Severus' voice was unusually husky. He drew one, quick breath and leaned down slightly. Hermione looked from his eyes to his mouth, it was very close to hers now, and if she didn't stop this he was going to kiss her . . . but did she really want to stop this? Yes, her head told her, of course she did! But her heart . . . her heart was telling her something very different. It had been such a long time since she had shared such a tender moment with anyone, what harm could it do?  
  
She sighed her acceptance and closed her eyes, lifting herself on to tiptoes to meet him halfway -  
  
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"  
  
A very loud, very familiar voice made them spring apart like guilty teenagers, and Hermione stared at its' owner in amazement.  
  
Ron Weasley, Quidditch keeper for his beloved Chudley Cannons for the past four seasons, was standing almost right next to them wearing almost his full keeping kit. The expression on his face, an intermingling of fury and horror, did not bode well for either of them . . . 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'm on a roll! AND I'm back at work! One is decidedly better than the other. My manager is a hole.  
  
JennyRad - What can I say? I'm weak! Forgive me, I'll try not to do it again!  
  
Beron - Yeah, CPR! Hehehehe. Not sure it works right standing up though! But would Ron know that? Hmmmmmm.  
  
This was fun to write, I hope it's fun to read, too.  
  
***  
  
Hermione stared at Ron, her face suddenly hot with embarrassment. She was vaguely aware of Severus standing by her side but found she could not look at him. He touched her arm once, and leaned down to murmur into her ear.  
  
"Would you like me to leave?" He straightened up to address Ron directly. "I would hate to ruin such a . . . special visit, Mr. Weasley."  
  
Hermione's cheeks flamed as she watched him stalk back across the grounds towards the castle. She found herself angry and humiliated for reasons she could not define. Her hands clenched into small fists at her sides, she inhaled and let out a long breath before turning to her old friend, managing a hesitant smile. He had changed so much in the years since she had last seen him, filling out his gangly form so that he was now both tall and broad-chested. His face was still boyish, but now boyishly handsome, and in another time and place Hermione would have found him very attractive. The only problem was she knew that underneath his skin he was still the same Ron she knew when she was eleven. He had been one of her best friends, there had been a time when they had known each other so well . . . Hermione looked over at him and her eyes filled with sudden happy tears.  
  
"Ron. It's been so long . . ." She went to him then, and they shared a tentative embrace. Ron relaxed into her enough to give her a little squeeze, and then pulled away, his confusion evident.  
  
"What did I just see then?" He asked her quietly.  
  
"It's not what it looked like!" Hermione was quick to defend herself, but at the same time she couldn't quite make herself believe that her words were true.  
  
"What it looked like, Hermione, was you almost kissing the dear potions Professor." Ron raised a fair eyebrow so high it almost disappeared into his bright red hair. Hermione swallowed.  
  
"All right, so it was what it looked like!" Her voice was shrill. Ron looked stunned.  
  
"But why, Herm?"  
  
"I . . . I don't know," she shook her head, mind racing. Ron's sudden appearance had immediately severed the connection between herself and Severus, only leaving her with sharply etched memories of his holding her, his touch, the way his face had hovered over hers . . . she trembled violently, not understanding. They were walking one minute, and the next they were almost kissing. She fleetingly wondered what it would have been like to kiss him, and then her mind flinched away from the thought, sending her spinning back to the present. Ron had crossed his arms across his chest, and was frowning. "Because I wanted to." She said in a small voice. Ron drew in breath sharply.  
  
"What on earth is going on?" He took three steps to his left, wheeled about and repeated the motion. "First I get the strangest owl from you, so I come straight here, and what's the first thing I see? You nearly snogging that overgrown bat!"  
  
His childish jibe hit home sharply. Hermione was regaining her composure quickly now, and she was damned if she would let that one pass.  
  
"We were not snogging!" She shouted. "And he's not an overgrown bat! Will you ever grow up?" Her voice lowered a little. "We're colleagues, Ron. He's . . . different now. He's changed."  
  
Ron snorted incredulously. "Right, Hermione. Right."  
  
Hermione looked at him, her eyes beseeching.  
  
"Please don't start with this," she sighed. He must have known what she meant, because he ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head ruefully.  
  
"When did you get so gorgeous anyway?" He grumbled. She narrowed her eyes in mock-annoyance.  
  
"I've always been gorgeous, you've just never noticed until now," she took his arm, pulling him into a slow walk around the edges of the lake. Her expression became serious again. "Ron, I need to talk to you about something . . ."  
  
"Anything, Herm." Ron smiled down at her. She wished that he would not call her 'Herm'. Annoyance sparked in her eyes, and then disappeared as she remembered why he was here.  
  
"It's about Harry," she whispered.  
  
"Oh." His face was suddenly as serious as hers. "Go on then."  
  
Hermione began at the beginning. It took a long time. They stopped at the far side of the lake, sitting side by side and looking out over the water. She somehow found the strength to tell Ron the truth, to explain her feelings for Harry as best she could, to say that she was sorry. To her surprise, Ron seemed to understand, taking her difficult revelations in his stride. He was at pains to tell her that he did not blame her or hate her, as she had been afraid he would. He was softly spoken and philosophical, reminding her that he was an adult as well as she. She cried. He comforted her.  
  
The sun was slipping behind the horizon by the time he reluctantly got up to leave. Hermione remained sitting, her arms wrapped around her knees. It was cold but her cloak was keeping the worst of it out. She looked up at Ron; he looked down at her fondly.  
  
"I'll be seeing you, Hermione." He said softly. "I wish I could stay longer, but the Cannons, you know . . ."  
  
"I know, Ron," she lied, closing her eyes as he bent to kiss the top of her head. "Goodbye."  
  
"Don't you stay out here too long," he muttered. "It's getting cold."  
  
"I won't. Just a little while longer," she promised him, wanting to enjoy the last rays of the sun. He ruffled her hair, and then she heard his soft footfalls drawing away. She turned a little and then watched his departing back until he was hidden from her in the dusk.  
  
Turning her head back to the lake and the sun she gave a long sigh, simultaneously feeling a weight lifting from her shoulders, a weight she had carried around for the longest time. It was almost exhilarating to be free of it at last, but still. . . Hermione's cinnamon eyes darkened. She still had to speak to Ginny, and that would not be half so easy. Ginny had always been a little standoffish, a little wary of Hermione simply because she had been close to Harry, and what Hermione had to tell her was guaranteed not to improve their brittle friendship. Hermione wondered if she was being selfish in telling Ginny something she could probably go the rest of her life without knowing. Probably, came back the answer, but she was determined that her conscience be clear, and if that meant telling Ginny the truth and asking for forgiveness then so be it. There could be no moving on until she could confront the demons of her past, so confront them she must.  
  
The sun finally slid away in a blaze of crimson light, and faint stars began to twinkle in the heavens above Hermione's head. She leant back into the still damp ground, looking up at them. A faint smile appeared on her lips. She felt completely alone, and for the first time it was not a bad feeling. She felt at peace. Her eyes began to close sleepily, she allowed herself to drift. Only for a few minutes, she told herself, just a few . . .  
  
*  
  
"Merlin, you're freezing!" Hermione was lulled from her sleep what only seemed like minutes later by an angry voice hissing in her ears. She opened her eyes blearily, slowly taking in the pitch darkness around her. Not minutes then, she thought, closing her eyes again.  
  
"Hermione!" The voice warned her, and she forced them back open. Severus Snape's face came into sharp focus, very close by. "Wake up!" He whispered.  
  
"I'm awake," she protested groggily, struggling into a sitting position. A pair of hands briskly rubbed her arms. They were warm. She sighed with pleasure. The rubbing abruptly stopped.  
  
"Get up." She was hauled unceremoniously to her feet, where she stood wobbling until he placed a steadying arm around her. She looked up at Severus curiously.  
  
"How long have I been asleep? What time is it?" Her voice was husky with sleep.  
  
"Nearly ten. You have been missing for hours." His voice was taught with anger.  
  
"Missing? I've been right here," Hermione smiled beatifically. He ignored it and gave her a little nudge so that she would begin walking back towards the school.  
  
"Yes well, we know that now. Half the castle has been out looking for you."  
  
Severus stopped suddenly, catching her in a fierce hug that knocked the breath out of her. With a shocked 'oof!' she let him squeeze her and then let her go so quickly she almost fell over backwards. What was going on?  
  
"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, genuinely remorseful that her falling asleep had caused so much trouble.  
  
"Tell that to Dumbledore." He grasped her arm, and continued to march her back around the lake. Hermione looked up at him, hardly recognising the angry man she was walking alongside. His face was all planes and angles, most of it hidden in the darkness, but what she could see of it was definitely angry. Hermione remembered what it was to face off with an angry Severus and felt a jolt of fear. She stopped walking, making him stop too, and faced him in the darkness. His eyes were glittering, his mouth a hard, straight line.  
  
"Please . . ." Her voice was low. "Please, don't be angry . . ."  
  
"Angry?" Severus spluttered. "Angry? Have you ever been frantic with worry, Hermione? Anything could have happened to you out here! How could you be so irresponsible!"  
  
Hermione was momentarily speechless. Frantic with worry? Her heart lurched southwards and she gave a little gasp.  
  
"I. Fell. Asleep." She said eventually. "I'm cold, but I think I'll survive if it's all the same to you."  
  
"Don't be flippant!" He snapped, close enough for her to see his breath clouding the air between them.  
  
"I wasn't!" She protested. "I was just saying . . ."  
  
He grasped her by the shoulders, his fingers biting into her skin.  
  
"Be quiet." His voice was dangerous. "Be quiet, or so help me I'll . . ."  
  
She didn't let him finish the sentence. Couldn't. Instead, she simply leaned forward and upward and placed a gentle kiss against his mouth, pulling away almost the instant her lips touched his. He was warm, she thought hazily. He was looking at her quizzically.  
  
"Why did you do that?" He whispered.  
  
"Because I wanted to," she replied, not for the first time that evening.  
  
An arm went around her waist and up her spine, tugging her in closer to him. They were touching chest to chest, and Hermione could feel the rapid staccato of his heart. A hand grasped her chin, titling her face up to his.  
  
"Do it again." He instructed hoarsely, and then he was leaning down to her, and she was reaching up to him to repeat the gesture. Her mouth lingered against his this time, wondering and waiting if he would respond, and he did, returning her kiss in the gentle spirit that it was offered but accompanying it with something more. He gave a little groan and then her mouth was opening under gentle persuasion from his. He kissed her as if his life depended on it, and she welcomed it. When he pulled away to look closely into her eyes they were both breathless.  
  
Hermione's head was spinning. This was all too much, and yet at the same time not enough. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she took an uncertain step backwards without her eyes leaving his. He frowned.  
  
"I'm sorry . . . I just can't . . ." A sob caught in her throat and she forced it down.  
  
"Hermione." He said her name like a warning or a prayer, closing his eyes in resignation.  
  
"I've got to . . ." Pushing past him, she broke into an unsteady jog knowing that he would not come after her, not this time. Within seconds there were metres between them.  
  
For all of the difference it made, it might as well have been miles. 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Last chapter! This is the end of the line! Much slush, very much lemon-flavoured (warning), terribly terribly wildly OOC, but an absolute joy from start to finish. I apologise if it seems rushed, I just wanted it done. I am appalling at endings, so advance apologies if it's not what you're expecting. It just felt natural to end it there.  
  
Big hugs to everyone who stayed with me for this trip. I'd be lost without the reviews, there's no way this would have happened without them. It's been a blast, but worry not, there will be more from me soon, promise! In the meantime, if you haven't already done so, go read my other fics!  
  
***  
  
Hermione ran straight to her rooms, and was relived to be challenged by no one on her way there. The halls were deserted, and she reached her door without encountering a single person. Once there, she slammed the door behind her and sank to the floor, leaning against it heavily. Her heart was racing and she was not surprised to find herself physically shaking with a combination of fright and exertion. Curling into a tight ball she squeezed her eyes tightly closed and breathed heavily through her nose. Memories flashed through her mind; over and over she relived the moment when she had kissed Severus a second time, and was flooded with a sudden warmth that stopped her shaking. She had not expected that kissing him would have such an effect on her, it had been remarkably tender and . . . Hermione caught herself uncertainly. Her fear caught in her throat, she winced. In those few seconds when she had been close to him she had felt more alive than she had in five years, yet it was almost as if she could not cope with the feeling, forcing her to reject both it and him.  
  
She caught her lower lip between her teeth and worried it. It was difficult for her to see Severus Snape in this new light. That she could care for him, even love him was almost impossible for her to accept. Her heart longed for it, for him, but her head was warning her off and forcing her to push away what was being offered. It was causing a painful conflict inside her as she struggled to properly commit her feelings for Harry to the past so that she might feel anew. Her love for him had been dimmed with the passing of time, yet it remained unfulfilled, unacknowledged and vibrant in its intensity. Eclipsing it all were the unexpected events with Severus in recent days, events that gave her hope that she was still able to feel for another. She had seen a little way past his barriers, and the glimpse of the man beneath was intriguing. Hermione wanted to know him properly, to see who he really was beneath it all. Guilt and fear were conspiring with each other to stop that, and she was hopelessly confused and frightened.  
  
A sudden and loud knocking on her door made Hermione jump sharply and she flinched, but did not move from her position on the floor. She knew who awaited her on the other side of the door, and she could not face him feeling the way she felt. The knock came again, more insistently this time and she placed her head on her knees and closed her eyes. Please go away, she thought, please.  
  
"Professor Granger . . ." Severus' voice floated through the door, sounding maddeningly calm. "Please open the door. I must speak with you." There was a long pause, during which she fancied she could hear him breathing. "Hermione," he whispered, "please . . ."  
  
He spoke her name with such gentle passion that unbidden tears filled her eyes. Choking back a sob, they coursed silently down her cheeks as she began to tremble again.  
  
"I did not mean to hurt you; I know that you are frightened." Unbeknownst to her, he was sitting on the floor on the other side of the door; they were back to back and separated only by wood.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes again, refusing to accept that he might understand her vulnerable position. She heard him sigh softly.  
  
"Look," he whispered. "Look, I am sorry. Please do not do this . . ."  
  
She had heard enough, her heart was aching and she did the only thing she could to make it stop. Wiping her tears away with the back of her hand she struggled to her feet and struggled to unlock the door. By the time she wrenched it open he was also on his feet, and then they were standing in front of each other again. It seemed as there was no time to waste as Hermione fairly launched herself onto him, pressing her tearstained face into his robes and desperately breathing in his musky scent. His arms went about her too, and she felt his hands in her hair as he pressed her close. His own breathing, hoarse and raspy, matched her own as she cried angry sobs into his chest, and he comforted her in his own inexperienced way, hands circling her back reassuringly, quiet voice murmuring words of comfort. He was her comfort, she thought suddenly, and he could be her salvation, if she would let him.  
  
Hermione cried and found herself so fed up of crying. She was distressed and frightened, unable to see a way out of the situation in which she had placed herself, but as her tears slowed and finally stopped she was gradually more and more aware of the fact that her sense of right and wrong appeared to have abandoned her. She looked within herself for guidance and found that her conscience had no answers to give. The decision that she would now make had only to be based on what happened, what *was* happening right at that moment. She sniffed, and raised head to look up at Severus. His expression was watchful, guarded, and only relaxed when she reached up a hand to gently touch the side of his face. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, trailing away along the side of his neck and stopping where his clothing started. His eyes flickered closed; the beginnings of a smile lifted the corners of his thin mouth.  
  
Hermione looked at it, looked at *him*. He opened his eyes and looked at her, letting out a gentle sigh. All barriers were down, there was nothing and no reason to stop them doing whatever it was they now wanted to do. Hermione took a moment to listen to her heart. It thudded painfully in her chest, nervous with anticipation but not telling her to stop. She was no longer sure that she could stop, not now. Stepping backwards, she picked up his hand and held it. Elegant, pale and long fingered it curled slowly to grasp her hand, fingers entwining with hers. She smiled, looking down at their joined hands. This was right, she thought, this was more than right. Pulling on his hand she led him slowly, but not hesitantly over to the archway in her sitting room that led to her bedroom. Standing there she stretched up and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him properly. He responded as she knew he would, and the sweetness she felt was unfamiliar and exciting. She pulled back to look at him in wonder. He stroked her face, eyes darkening.  
  
She led him a little further into the room, lit only by moonlight and starlight. With gentle persuasion and several passionate kisses he was sitting on the edge of her double bed, minus the four posts, but complete with gothic metal arch headboard. With a tiny, tiny hesitation born of shyness Hermione unhooked her cloak and let it drop silently to the floor. Her outer robes followed it swiftly, and then she was fumbling with the buttons on her fitted shirt, trembling hands giving away her nerves.  
  
Severus put his hands either side of her waist and tugged her a little closer. Looking up at her he put his hands over hers.  
  
"Let me," he breathed, and she tensed as he slowly undid one button, and then another and another, revealing creamy skin and a wispy bra. Easing her shirt off her shoulders he pulled her down into his lap, hands running up her spine to gently undo the clasp at the back. Stripping her bra away he gathered her into a close embrace, kissing her and not allowing her to become embarrassed. She squirmed a little in his lap, delicious friction that promised more.  
  
The rest of her clothes and all of Severus' followed quickly after that, they were both lost to an encroaching urgency that would not be denied. Lying stretched out on the bed together Hermione admired the way their bodies complimented each other. Pale but toned, he was sinewy and strong. She had not expected this, but then she had not expected him.  
  
Her head was spinning now, but not unpleasantly so, as he moved slowly against her, gently, oh so gently, beginning the tender process of making love to her. He could not have known because she had not told him, but he couldn't have failed to see the fleeting look of pain that flashed across her face as he began. It was quickly enough forgotten for Hermione, and it was not until afterwards, when they were lying together underneath the duvet that he nudged her sleepily and kissed the top of her head.  
  
"You should have told me," he admonished her softly.  
  
"Told you . . . ?" Hermione stretched against him, and then realised what he meant. "What difference would it have made, Severus?"  
  
"I know you wouldn't have given this up to just anyone," he said.  
  
"I'm glad that it was you," she was honest and it was heartfelt. He tucked her head under his chin and stroked her hair.  
  
"May I ask you something, Hermione?" She smiled as the rasp of his voice vibrated in his throat against her forehead.  
  
"Anything."  
  
"Do you think that you can save me?" His question was so unexpected, so strange, that she lifted her head to look at him in astonishment. His eyes glinted in the starlight.  
  
"Save you?"  
  
"Yes, save me. Save me from the man that I've become." His melodic voice was steady, but was beginning to waver slightly at the edges.  
  
"Do you need saving?" She smoothed his raven hair, kissed him. He smiled sadly.  
  
"Very much so. I am lonely. I have made so many mistakes, chosen the wrong path so many times, but I still have hope. I want you to be my path; I want you to save me."  
  
Hermione's breath caught in her throat, and she managed a shaky nod.  
  
"In that case, would you do me the honour of saving *me*? I know all about being lonely, and I know about making bad decisions. I'm not sure where this is going to take us, but I do know that it feels right, so right . . ."  
  
She believed her words, she had no other choice. Everything seemed to have happened so quickly, she knew that they had only scratched the surface of what they could have in the last few days. It was a daunting prospect and frightening, but also exhilarating and liberating. Hermione felt herself at last freed from the shadow of the last man she had loved, the man who had died before she had the chance to tell him.  
  
"I never thought that it would be you," Severus said thoughtfully. Hermione's eyes twinkled.  
  
"No."  
  
"But I'm glad that it is."  
  
"I'll consider myself at least halfway to being saved then."  
  
"Good. Sleep now." Holding her, he relaxed into the pillows, spiky eyelashes making tiny shadows on his cheeks. Hermione watched him as he slid into sleep, and found the resolve to carry on. She did not know what the future would bring, at that moment in time it somehow did not seem important. What was important was that she had finally managed to find a way to let go of the past.  
  
He was her way. He was her path now. 


End file.
